


The Abbess

by soprano_buddy15



Category: The Last Kingdom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: At a Nunnery, Between seasons 3 and 4, Character from the past, Spoilers for Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano_buddy15/pseuds/soprano_buddy15
Summary: Uhtred sends Finan and Sihtric to protect a nunnery from Danish invaders, where they meet a person from Uhtred’s past.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	The Abbess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java_Blythe_Peralta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_Blythe_Peralta/gifts).



> Hello my people,
> 
> It’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted, and I guess I had a bit of writers block? I’ve also been fighting for my job to start, so that’s been fun. 
> 
> This is dedicated to my beautiful, amazing, incredible friend Java_Blythe_Peralta.  
> *Over Text*  
> June 12  
> Me: “Also I think tomorrow I write a lot of fanfiction.”  
> Java_Blythe_Peralta: “Brilliant.”  
> June 13  
> J: “How go the fanfics?”  
> Me: I haven’t written anything. The motivation from 12:03 last night is gone.”  
> J: “Mood.”
> 
> Anyway, I wanted to write something like this but I only had a breakthrough with it last night, so here it is! I took a lot from the episode in season 3 with Aethelflaed at the nunnery, but I hope that I made it my own as well. This takes place between season 3 and season 4.
> 
> Also coming up with titles is the worst?
> 
> Constructive comments are always welcome! Just don’t be rude, because nobody wants that.

“Remind me why we are here again?” Sihtric asked as they rode up to the nunnery walls. It was getting late in the day, and he was tired of riding to Devonshire. 

“Edward fears the Danes will attack this area,” Finan explained impatiently to him again. He was also exhausted, and was frustrated at how long they had been riding. Sihtric knew that he was upset at the day, not at him. “Uhtred sent us because he doesn’t trust these hay-brained soldiers to protect them.” He glanced around at the guards warily, although he did not try to hide his voice too much. 

“It is a nunnery,” Sihtric groaned, already preparing himself for the distrustful looks and the nuns praying for his soul from the corner. He wished he could be like Uhtred when it came to people of the cloth and maintain an air of carelessness, but in truth, the way their eyes grew wide when he approached and their rushed movements to clutch their crucifixes hurt him every time. 

He knew that he would always be a Dane in their eyes, that on the surface, that was all he could ever be. But he supposed that it was how nobody ever _wanted_ to get to know him better was what bothered him. He sighed and repositioned himself on his horse, quite sore from riding. Hopefully it would only be a couple of days. 

Fortunately Edward’s men were riding all around him, and the nuns let them leave their horses in the stable once they caught side of Wessex’s crest. Walking into the main hall of the nunnery, Sihtric could see why Danes would want to attack this place. For all their gripes about living a humble life, the church enjoyed its splendour. 

He followed Finan as he made his way towards the Abbess, who was standing off to the side as the rest of Edward’s men immediately sat down at the long table and feasting. He could feel the eyes of the postulants on him, and he clenched his jaw when he rested his gaze on a small group of them, squeaking and scurrying away. 

“Abbess, I am Finan. I am here on behalf of King Edward.” Finan introduced himself to the Abbess. Sihtric could see wisps of red hair coming out from underneath her head covering. She had a fierce expression on her face, but Sihtric could see a gentle softness underneath it, and something that spoke of incredible grief. “This is Sihtric, my second.”

She narrowed her gaze on him, on his beaded hair and hammer of Thor. “Why has Edward not sent the commander of his guard?” She asked, finally taking her dark gaze away from Sihtric.

“Steapa? He’s too busy standing at the beck and call of our good King.”

She raised a single eyebrow, and turned back to Sihtiric. Her eyes flicked to his tattoo, and she narrowed her eyes slightly . “You are a Dane. How are you second in command of King Edwards men?” 

He bristled slightly. “We serve Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” he said, gesturing to Finan. “We are here on his order.”

The Abbess inhaled sharply at the name. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg, you say?” She said, very quietly. “That is a name I have tried to forget.”

Sihtric glanced at Finan, but the man was just as confused as he was. “Do you… know Uhtred?” He asked, albeit very hesitantly. 

The Abbess let out a low chuckle, but it was dry and humourless. “Oh, I know him alright.” Suddenly, her whole demeanour changed. She gestured towards a table and poured them ale as they sat down together. “It was many years ago.” She didn’t seem intent on continuing this line of conversation.

The Abbess studied them as they ate in an awkward silence. Sihtric was itching to ask more questions, but he suspected that she would probably ignore him.

A loud yell from outside the nunnery made Sihtric turn his neck sharply. He looked at Finan, matching his wide eyed gaze. “Already?” Finan muttered, and the sound of steel clashing was heard, followed by the gurgling scream of a dying man.

“You go lead them in an attack outside.” Sihtric said as he clambered off of the chair, and the Abbess hurried to stand up as well. “I’ll keep everyone in here.”

Finan locked eyes with him, clasping his arm. Before he left, Finan nodded towards the Abbess and turned to begin gathering men.

“You five!” Sihtric pointed at the five men standing in the corner, shock on their faces and wine goblet in hand. “You stay here with me.” He turned towards the Abbess, who was white in the face. “Are all of your nuns here in this room?”

She gulped, but scanned the room a few times before nodding.

“Close the doors.” Edward’s men had dropped their goblets and slammed the heavy wooden door shut. Sihtric darted to the far end of the great table. “Help me.” To his surprise, the Abbess came up beside him and shoved as much as she could, and the table block the doors. 

The rest of the nuns were clumped in a circle at the front of the hall, and several had tears streaming down their face. “Do you have silver?” He asked, but winced when a few shrunk back at his abrupt voice. “Do you have it?” He tried again, but kept his voice softer. “I need to know. If anything happens, can it be accessed quickly?”

“We have a little,” the Abbess came up beside him. “A few candlesticks, but other than that we are quite humble here.”

“Is there any other way into this chapel?” 

The Abbess nodded to a side door that blended into the wall well. “That goes straight to the kitchens, but goes through the side pantry. It is hard to see at first glance.”

Sihtric whistled at the men, and the yelling grew louder outside the doors. Sihtric heard Finan yell a curse in Gaelic. “You stand guard at this door. Kill anyone who enters.”

He grasped his hammer of Thor, muttering his prayers to the gods. In this place, he was also very aware of the silver crucifix that lay against his skin, the metal almost burning him. He kissed his amulet, and unsheathed his sword and axe. 

The fighting grew louder, and the nuns let out the occasional whimper as the banging of steel increased. Sihtric stood in front of them, clenching his jaw as the tension rose. 

Just as it was about to snap, the fighting outside stopped. “Drop it!” Sihtric heard an unrecognizable voice shout out, and the clatter of weapons being dropped to the ground. There was some scuffling, and then silence. 

“I know there is silver here!” The gruff voice called out. “Open the doors or your commander dies!”

Sihtric’s heart plummeted into his stomach. _Finan._ “You must distract him,” he whispered urgently to the Abbess, who began protested profusely. “You must. I will go around and kill him from the other side.”

She clenched her jaw shut but gave a tight nod. “Gather the silver, but slowly,” she instructed her nuns. “I will talk to the Dane.” As much as she treated Sihtric with a coldness, he could admire her bravery. 

Sihtric instructed the guards to watch over the nuns, but to not engage. He snuck out of the side door, sheathing his axe and sword, choosing to pull out his seax instead. The door from the pantry into the kitchen was squeaky, and he thanked the gods that he was still on the smaller side for a full grown man and was able to squeeze out. He crouched by the door leading to the entrance hall, hiding in the shadows. 

He caught sight of Finan, who was on his knees in front of a giant Dane. The Dane had straw coloured hair that was caught up in a large knot at the top of his head, with braids falling down over his shoulders. A large tattoo covered his right hand and snaked up his arm, but Sihtric swallowed sharply at the large knife that was in the hand. 

It was pressed up against Finan’s neck, and the blood from the giant gash in his face was running down and collecting on the blade. Finan looked furious, and Sihtric knew by the way he was clenching his fists that Finan was ready to wrestle the man to death. 

“Open the door!” The Dane tugged on Finan’s hair, pressing the knife closer against his skin. Finan visibly gulped, and a bead of blood ran down his neck. 

The doors opened, spilling light into the hallway. Sihtric counted his blessings again, as it illuminated another Dane standing guard at the front entrance, facing outward. As he glanced out the window, he saw only two or three others standing by their horses. Edward’s men lay strewn about the grass, but just as many Danes were on their back as well. 

“We are collecting the silver.” Sihtric edged around the corner of the doorway as the Abbess began speaking, her voice shaky. He stuck to the shadows, thanking the gods for the second time that night as his black cuirass hid him well. “Let him go.”

“Get me the silver first, and I might consider letting him go.” The Dane snarled, and a small sound escaped Finan as his hair was pulled again. 

“You will release him, or Uhtred Ragnarson will find you and kill you.”

Even Sihtric had to appreciate the guts of this woman as he approached the Dane guarding the front door. He glanced back into the hall and saw the nuns gather bits of silver and set it into a burlap sack. The guards were standing beside the Abbess, who to her credit, had her head held high. 

Sihtric motioned to one of the guards who was most definitely watching him and mimicked banging a weapon against a shied. Thankfully, there was more than straw underneath his helmet and he backed up into the table, knocking down the pitcher of ale and a platter of food. 

As it clattered on the floor, Sihtric slid up beside the guard and covered his mouth with his hand as he drew his seax across his neck. Blood poured onto the stone as he braced the fall of the body with his own. His hand was covered as he held it against the Dane’s mouth until he was completely silent. 

“And why would Uhtred Ragnarson come for me?” 

Relief washed through Sihtric as he knew that he was still undiscovered. He crept up behind the burly Dane.

“Because he protects his men.”

Blessing Finan for his intuition, Sihtric grabbed the Dane by the hair and yanked him back as Finan pushed the knife away from his throat. Sihtric placed his seax against the Dane’s throat, holding him by the braids tightly. “Who are you?” He growled. 

The Dane swallowed nervously. “Valdemar,” he muttered. “I used to serve Sigurd Bloodhair.”

Finan growled deep and low, his irritation at being overpowered washing over them both in waves. “Who do you serve now?” He asked.

“I’m am trying to make my own way,” he replied as Finan wrenched the knife from his hand as well as the sword in his belt. 

Sihtric shoved Valdemar away. “Take your men and leave,” Sihtric spat. “Find your way somewhere else.”

Sihtric should have known that he would not that easily. Danes never did. 

Valdemar stumbled to the ground, and suddenly spun up and around, having picked up a sword that had belonged to another Dane. Finan dodged backwards with a yell, the blade just missing his chest. Sihtric ducked as his swung over his head, and darted forward with his seax to plunge it into the Dane’s stomach. 

Finan lunged forward, having picked up his sword from the ground and stabbed it through the Dane’s chest. His eyes bulged, and blood began to bubble at his mouth as he fell forward. 

Sihtric pulled off one the Dane’s armbands as Finan wrenched his blade out of the chest of the Dane. Stalking towards the door, Sihtric tossed the armbands towards the guards outside. “Leave,” he called. “Your lord is dead.”

Yelling curses in Danish, the men pulled themselves on their horses and galloped off. 

Sihtric glanced at Finan, and winced when he saw the deep cut on his face. “Are you alright?” He asked, and Finan gingerly probed his head.

“Aye, I’ll be alright.” He hissed as his fingers touched the large cut, examining his bloody fingers. “I’ll be needing your help, though.”

Sihtric chuckled and clapped him on the back before turning back into the hall. The Abbess was still standing at the door, and a few of the nuns had completely broken down in the hall. 

“Are you alright?” Sihtric asked her gently. He was aware that his hands were red with blood, and tried to hide them by his side. 

She glanced around at the bloody mess in the hall, the nuns wails echoing in their ears. “I suppose we will be,” she said quietly. She glanced up at Sihtric. “I thank you. Without your assitance…” she shook her head. “I cannot express my gratitude.”

Sihtric smiled bashfully, but nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

“Abbess, if I may ask…” Finan gently hedged out. “Most Saxons know Uhtred as being from Bebbanburg. How do you know of him as Uhtred Ragnarson?”

She smiled softly. “I guess I have not properly introduced myself to you,” she admitted. “My name is Abbess Mildrith.”

Finan sucked in a sharp breath, and even Sihtric felt the shock go through him. Uhtred had talked of his first wife, albeit quite briefly, to his men. They had not ended their relationship well, particularly after his first son had died and Mildrith went away to a nunnery. 

“Well, Abbess Mildrith,” Sihtric spoke, as Finan was clearly too shocked to say anything. “We must thank you for your help as well. Had you not kept them distracted, the ending to this story would be very different.”

She gestured to the table where some meat and fruit still sat, and they sat down together. “Hopefully this will be the end of the story.”

They sat together, making small conversation as they got to know this woman a bit better. She was curious about Uhtred, and it seemed that any harsh feelings towards the man were dissipating. “He is happy?” She asked.

Finan nodded. “He is content where he is,” he said softly. Sihtric knew that Uhtred still struggled without Gisela, even though it had been several years since she had passed. 

“I am glad,” she said. “He was always so restless.”

Sihtric chuckled, and she smiled at him. It was a warm smile, and the chill of the nunnery that Sihtric felt was washed away as they sat together and shared a meal.


End file.
